Fear
by SilverMidnight52
Summary: Alice LaSalle is a foster mom that gets a call for an emergency placement of one Wesley Mitchell. Warnings inside. Sequel to 'Bitterness'.


I had gotten some reviews asking for another part to 'Bitterness'. This is the result of that.

Warnings: Child Abuse.

If you want to be kept up to date with redos on stories or want to know more about stories that will be started soon or even ask me to write a story for you please follow me on Facebook under SilverMidnight52! I own nothing!

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A yawn fell from Alice's lips as she tightened her robe. It was a little past 4 in the morning and the household was blissfully quiet. Something that would change rather quickly when 6 o'clock came along and everyone's alarms started going off.

Normally she'd be fast asleep herself until five came around and she had to start getting herself ready for the day so she could get the kids ready for the day. It was the routine that she had done for the past fifteen years and she loved it.

She'd start her day off with a cup of tea and walk the houses making sure that all of her kids were still in their beds. It was rare that any of her kids left in the middle of the night, but it had happened and she learned not to take it personally.

Once she had a head count of who was or was not there she'd go and take a shower. She always counted her stars that she lived in a place where taking a cold shower wasn't that much of a bother. That was a fight she would _never_ grow tired of hearing.

After she finished her shower and got dressed she had about fifteen minutes to start getting breakfast and lunches ready. Then the alarms would go off and the chaos that she loved more than anything would start.

It wasn't often that her routine was thrown off. A phone call while she was sleeping though was never a good sign. At first she had been worried that it was the police and one of her kids had gotten hurt or arrested.

Those phone calls happened more often than she liked, but she was never going to walk away from her kids. So she'd get dressed and she'd go wherever it was that she needed to go to make sure that they knew she was there.

The call she got was one that hurt even more than those calls did. Social Services called asking if she had a place for an emergency placement. It was going to be a tight fit with the other kids, but she couldn't say no.

This was part of the reason that she had decided to become a foster mom. She wanted to be able to provide a safe space for the children that didn't have one. Even if it was just for one night she wanted them to be okay.

When she first started out as a foster mom she had thought she knew what to expect. Children and teens with nowhere to go were going to be placed in her home for an undetermined amount of time while they found someplace better for them.

Even now she shook her head at how _naïve_ she had been. The kids that came through her house weren't looking for a place to call their home. Most of them didn't even believe that such a place existed for them anymore. They rarely believed that someplace was safe.

They were kids that had been orphaned or beaten or abandoned. They had been bounced from foster home to foster home never being able to put down any roots because it wasn't going to be long before they were off to another all too soon.

It was because of that that she did everything in her power to make her home as nice as possible. They might not be around for long, but while they were in her home they were her kids and nothing was going to change that.

At the moment she had three children already; Neal, who was sixteen, Matthew, who was fourteen, and Travis, who was nine. None of them had been in her home for very long, but if the looks she'd seen from Neal she was lucky he was still there.

It always broke her heart when one of her kids ran away, but there was nothing she could do about it other than report him as missing. She hated how helpless she was most of the time. She wanted to be able to help more. In the end though she did everything she could.

Before she could get any further in her thoughts a knock came to the front door. For a moment she couldn't help but freeze. Whatever was beyond that door she knew it wasn't going to be pretty. Her heart already ached thinking of what happened to the child.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself she made her way to the door and opened it. Her grip tightened on the doorknob when she saw two police officers and a social worker standing there looking about as tired as she felt.

"Ms. LaSalle," one of the officers greeted with a slight nod of his head, "We're sorry to disturb you so early in the morning."

"I was going to wake up soon anyway," Alice replied with a smile before moving aside so they could come in, "Is anyone thirsty?"

"We won't be staying. Have a good day, Ma'am. You too, Wesley."

Green eyes shot down as the officers started to walk away revealing the child that was going to be staying. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop from dropping to her knees and pulling the little boy into her arms. That never ended well.

Wesley was a small boy that couldn't be older than six. Though the icy blue eyes that were locked on a spot behind her looked so much older. She hated seeing such haunted eyes on someone so young.

Dragging her eyes over him she prayed that her face wasn't betraying the horror and disgust that she felt looking at him. Dried blood from the cut on his cheek was soaked into the crisp white of his button up shirt. His black trousers were torn and covered in mud.

To say that he looked horrible was an understatement and that was with her knowing that he had been cleaned up a bit. What got to her though was the fact that the little boy looked more like an adult than a child had any right to look.

It was easy to tell that he was supposed to be in a suit. Something that he actually looked like he was used to wearing. Who thought that a child that young needed to be wearing a suit? A child couldn't play in a suit.

"Hello, I'm Alice LaSalle," Alice greeted kneeling down but making sure there was plenty of room between them, "It's nice to meet you."

The boy blinked a few times before his eyes drifted over to Alice's face. For a moment she thought that he was going to take off running. It wouldn't be the first time that happened. Sometimes it was easier to just get away than deal with another adult.

"Hello," he spoke his voice sounding so formal that it would have been laughable in any other situation, "I'm Wesley Mitchell. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Ma'am."

It should have been adorable to hear someone so young talk like that, but instead it made her tear up. How long had it taken for him to learn how to talk like that? What kind of trouble did he get into if he made a mistake?

Those were thoughts that always plagued her whenever a new child came into her home. They never got answered and kept her awake most nights, but she couldn't stop herself from asking them over and over again.

"Are you hungry? Or thirsty?" Alice asked keeping her voice soft.

"No thank you, Ma'am," Wesley responded calmly.

"Wesley," the social worker suddenly spoke causing them both to look up at him, "Why don't you go clean up? You can't be comfortable like that."

"The bathroom is the third door on the left just down that hallway," Alice instructed, "Do you need any help?"

"No thank you, Ma'am."

"Okay, we'll be in the kitchen when you're done."

Taking the suitcase the social worker was holding out she watched as the little boy walked stiffly through her home looking as if he was going to keel over at any moment. Oh, how she wished she could help him.

Once the door to the bathroom was closed she stood up and motioned towards the kitchen. The two silently made there way in and she started brew a pot of coffee. Normally she wouldn't drink it, but she knew it was going to be a long day.

"I'm sorry for not introducing myself before," the social worker said with a half smile, "I'm Greg Stokes. It's nice to met you officially, Ms. LaSalle. I've heard good things about you."

"It's nice to met you as well," Alice replied with a smile of her own, "But please, call me Alice. What can you tell me about Wesley?"

"He hasn't had the easiest life as you can tell. His mother is a judge. One that believes the best way to earn money for her campaign is to prance around with her son as if they just walked off of the runway. I had no idea they made Gucci suits for children."

"What happened that they called you?"

"Apparently his mother was having a fundraiser tonight. I don't know what happened, but things took a turn for the worse and she blamed Wesley. From what the police told me a caterer saw her yelling at him outside. She slapped him hard enough that not only did her ring cut his cheek, but he tripped and fell down a hill. The doctors cleaned and treated his wound while I packed a bag for him. She didn't even put up a fight."

"She was arrested though, right?"

"She's a high powered judge with a lot of money and friends. I'm going to do everything I can, but it's doubtful that she's going to spend one night in jail. It's doubtful she's going to lose custody of Wesley."

Alice let out a sigh and poured them a cup of coffee. There was still some paperwork that they had to go over. It was never fun to do, but it was all part of the process and getting it done now meant not having to think about it again.

As Greg put the last of the paperwork in his briefcase the door to the bathroom opened. They waited impatiently for the little boy to make his way into the kitchen. When he walked in Alice couldn't help but smile slightly.

Wesley had changed from his dirty clothing and was now wearing a gray tailored suit looking like he was playing dress up. His blond hair was slicked back with water and his tie was a little crocked, but there was no doubt that he was imitating what he looked like every day.

"Okay, Wesley," Greg started moving so he was crouched in front of the boy, "I'm going to leave you with Ms. LaSalle. If you need anything you just call me. Okay?"

The man reached into a pocket and offered a business card to Wesley. Icy blue eyes stared at it for a moment before raising his hand to take it. A crack appeared in the boys armor when she saw that little hand shaking.

"Okay," Wesley whispered taking the card.

"Take care, Wesley," Greg offered with a smile before standing up, "I'll see you again."

The kitchen fell into an awkward silence when the social worker left them alone. No matter how many time she had been in the situation it never got any easier trying to integrate someone into the system.

"I was thinking waffles for breakfast, Wesley," Alice stated already moving around to get all of the ingredients out, "How does that sound?"

"It sounds fine, Ma'am," Wesley answered slipping the business card into his pocket.

"Wonderful. Would you like to help me?"

The little boy cocked his head to the side as if he was unsure what he was supposed to do. For a moment he looked like he was about to have a panic attack. His eyes clenched shut as he took a few calming breaths before looking up at her once more.

"Of course, Ma'am," Wesley said moving closer to her slowly.

"Thank you," Alice smiled happily before grabbing a chair and pulling it to the counter, "You might want to take off your tie and jacket. You don't want to get them dirty."

With a nod of his head Wesley did what she said. His movements were slow and a bit shaky as he finally made his way onto the chair. How she wished he would smile up at her like the child he was instead of the fake adult his mother made him into.

She stared at him for a moment before going to the other side of the kitchen and taking an apron out of the drawer. She always had some extra things around that she hoped made the kids feel a little better about being there.

"Here you go," Alice nodded coming back over to the boy, "To make sure your clean. Would you like me to tie it for you?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Wesley uttered staring at the fabric in confusion.

"Okay. Tell me if it's too tight."

Making sure that he could see all of her movements Alice carefully draped the apron over his neck before tying it loosely around his waist. Once that was done she offered the little boy a smile causing him to cock his head to the side again.

"Have you ever made waffles, Wesley?" Alice asked turning to the ingredients.

"No, Ma'am," Wesley shook his head carefully.

"Then you're in for a treat. This is one of my favorite foods ever. My mother taught me this recipe that she learned from her mother that she learned from her mother. I don't remember how far the line goes, but it's been in the LaSalle line for ages."

"I'm a Mitchell, Ma'am."

"I know, but I know you'll appreciate them as much as I do. Now. Let's get started."


End file.
